Thursday, September 29, 2011

CHIDAMBARAM : Of homely affairs & a spooky spectrum

T'was another scam burnt morning.Cows roared,elephants mewed and polar bears hip gyrated to the womanized anthem 'she - la ki jawani' . In the midst of such common occurrences, Uncommon Singh of the prime ministerial sin-isterial couch- the ephemeral custodian of all things petty in the house of commons, stuttered down the indecisive path of puppet polity. The corner of his hyper myopic - telescope enhanced vision saw white.....white at half mast on a lifeless flagpole. A million sparks of wonder played merry hell into his brilliance choked head....

'' A white flag at half mast..fluttering over the office of my home minister ??? '' he pondered.

'' A white flag suggests surrender, who in the name of authentic Italian pizza is the home minister surrendering to ??? The Naxals ? Tax payers ? Rakhee Sawant ?... who ??'' his excited lungs bellowed.

This desperate shriek of panic laced curiosity was heard by the Rust-gula masticating Prey-nab Mukherjee, who lost no time in launching himself into the thick of uncalled chivalry. '' That,what you see is not a flag, but a freshly starched dhoti from the home ministerial wardrobe, soaking both wind and sun for crisp innocence'' he begged to clarify. '' Oh... is that all, but... why half mast ?'' remarked the unsure leader of the dissipating pack,questioning the breach of pompous protocol.''Unfortunately, the honourable minister is in mourning and the ministry has taken a unilateral call to publicly reflect this official emotion symbolically - by letting the chieftains garment flutter at half mast ''remarked the prey shepherding fox.

The prime sinister nose dived further into querying ''what in the blazes is he wearing now, if his wrap around adorns the skies, scaring the airborne fauna ''

''For the sake of national interest, I demand to know, what conceals those vulnerable Chettinad leg pieces now ?

'' I did fly New York first class on an auctioned emergency ticket to bring to your esteemed notice, how unruly the unwaxed Chettinad legs looked.....it is bad publicity for the celebrated palm that washes the less illustrious hind.''

"Well.... he is using a new brand of auctioned undergarments that covers the invisible spectrum, thankfully, its not the next best thing to being naked. Have you tried it.... its called 3 & 2.. G string ??", inquired an overtly curious Mr Mukherjee.

''No'' he snarled,adjusting the folds of his Milan shipped second skin that he had sworn undivided loyalty to.

The arrival of the guilt devoid Mr. Chidambaram, arrested any further verbal ponder into each others innards. His 2 & 3 G stringed corset was generously revealed by a replacement wrap around, folded way above his hairy scary thighs and tucked above the pouting bellybutton of his part bulbous belly.

'' Gentlemen, welcome to my parlor '', he announced in seldom cherished grandeur. Sensing the doubting duo sizing up his provocative appearance, he sought to clarify..'' Ah this garb, is the latest in political haute couture.The G strings bestow the 'communicative' look. What say, we could issue a party whip on a common dress code ? ''

''I am sure you meant the undress code'' uttered the seldom uttering U Singh. '' I hear you, you mean well..'' he continued, ''you have my full confidence'' he concluded, affixing the official raison d'etre.

Mr Prey-nub, stopped cold in his conniving track and prevented further unfolding of his prime sinister design,hyperventilated and let out a high resounding vowel bowel shooting screech ''..aaa--eee--iiii---ooo---uuuu''. Country men, it is this in-digestive howl you mistake as a battle cry within the con-(in)gress. Now,with reality at the back of our soft heads, the curtains rise,the show has just begun. Hope you enjoy these cheap theatrics sold high, as much as the lead party has enjoyed putting it together for us, the revered domiciles.

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